


Before We Remember

by KaeStela



Category: Starbound (Video Game)
Genre: Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-30 02:31:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10867182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaeStela/pseuds/KaeStela
Summary: Following a nasty run-in with Glitch guards, Novakid vigilante Isobu Luko finds a friend in the last place he'd expect.(Prequel of sorts to As Long as We Remember, on brief hiatus until I finish writing that one)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place about six years before As Long as We Remember. I'll be much slower with updating it, but I'll try my best to keep things going.

_That… that could have gone better._

Isobu Luko staggered over the snowy ground, right hand pressed tight over the gaping hole in his side to keep what was left of his vital gases from escaping. His wings shed featherlike curls of plasma that hissed into steam when they touched the snow. He’d lost his sword when the Glitch guard shot him. All he had left was his old pistol and the knife at his belt. _Not much good they’ll do me,_ the Novakid thought wryly as he stumbled, catching himself against a low birch. He could feel his brand straining just to hold his form together. Not much time left.

Emptiness pulsed up his side and Isobo fell heavily, his shoulder striking hard against the frozen dirt. He scrabbled at the ground, cursing, and managed to push himself up, but his legs wouldn’t move. “Damn you,” he growled. _Not here. Not where they can find me._ He tried to drag himself forward, but the pain in his side flared and the world went dark.

When he came to, a shadow blocked the sun. It knelt beside him and he bit back a curse as a dark-visored helmet swam into view. He couldn’t have been out long; how had they snuck up on him? A strong hand gripped his wrist as he went for his gun and a voice said, “Don’t try it.”

That wasn’t a Glitch voice, or a Glitch helmet, Isobu realized as his vision cleared a little more. He tried to speak, but it only came out as an echoing groan. The hand let go of his him and flicked the mirrored visor up, revealing the face of a dark-haired Apex, possibly female. Isobu had never been good at guessing, even when he wasn’t venting out.

“Can you speak?” the Apex asked. Definitely female.  She spoke the common trade tongue, but with a thick, unfamiliar accent.

Isobu groaned again, then rasped, “Not for long… If… yer gonna finish me… be quick, will ya?” He had never really interacted with Apex much. On any other day, he would have been fascinated. On any other day, he wouldn’t have been dying in this frozen wasteland.

 She didn’t answer at first, simply rolling him onto his back. Isobu swore again; her large hands were surprisingly gentle, but his whole body had gone brittle now. Thin cracks clawed their way up his back and he screamed.

When the pain faded, the Apex asked, “Where are you injured?”

“Nine… steaming… _hells_ … woman,” Isobu croaked. “Leave a man to… die in peace…” It occurred to him, dimly, that she was too close. If he died now, the explosion would take her too. _Damn… don’t need more blood on my hands._

The Apex ignored him and calmly repeated, “Where are you injured?” She did not seem inclined to leave him alone.

He sighed, a rush of static ruptured by a sharp crackle as his brand took another pulse of feedback from his wound. “Left side…”

A hum of surprise escaped him as she unbuttoned his shirt and coat and folded them open. “What in… tarnation… do ya think yer doin’?” he asked, trying to push her away.  

“Saving your life.” The Apex produced a fine greenish fabric from some hidden pocket—nanowrap. The charred cloth he’d bound haphazardly over the hole in his side crumbled at her touch, but she applied the nanowrap in its place with practiced ease. She only faltered once, cursing in her own tongue as escaping gas scorched her right hand.

The Novakid felt himself relax just a bit as the pain faded. The bandages sealed what was left of his plasma in. He didn’t dare hope, but… There was a chance. He might yet survive this one.

“Are ya a doctor, ma’am?” Isobu asked as she finished and pulled his long coat back into place. He pushed himself up on one shaking arm, trying to study her.

“No. Save your strength.” There was something about the shortness to her words, and the way she’d pause every so often to look around. She was hiding from something.

“This place is too open,” she said at last, confirming his suspicions. “Fold your wings in.”

Isobu obeyed, surprising himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d answered to someone else’s orders. He didn’t get time to muse further as her arms slid under his shoulders and legs, earning a surprised whistle as she picked him up.

“Heh, aren’t ya a strong one, ol’ girl?” he teased. His laugh was interrupted by another violent crackle; his brand hummed and he groaned softly.

“Hush,” she murmured.

Isobu was too distracted by the ache of his overstrained brand to remember much of where she took him. He could hear her breath above him and the wind around them tickled through his wings as creeping shadows grasped at the edges of his vision, threatening to drag him down. He barely registered they’d stopped until she set him down again.

“You should be safe enough here,” the woman whispered. She dragged a thick woolen blanket over him; Isobu hummed gratefully as it trapped a bit of his fading warmth. It also hid most of his light, making him nearly invisible in the small room.

Isobu looked around, trying to figure out where he was. A tiny iron lantern flickered atop a nearby crate, its glow almost identical to his own, and it illuminated several other wooden crates. “Where… where’ve ya brought me?” he asked. His body felt so hollow. He wanted to sleep.

“Storage room. It’s been forgotten. What sort of things do your folk eat?” she asked. The wariness was still there, the slight shift every so often as she glanced up or at the door.

“Jus’ ‘bout anythin’ we can burn,” Isobu told her. “I wouldn’t mind a whiskey right now…”

The Apex woman nodded and stood up, flicking her visor back down. “I will see what I can find. Stay here.”

“Sure… Not like I could go if I tried.” He was too tired now to laugh, though his glow brightened a little bit. “Say, ol’ girl… Ya got a name?”

“Call me Anata,” she said. “…I’ll be back soon.”

Isobu hummed softly as she left and shifted under the blanket, folding his wings around himself. Possibly captured, but he wasn’t dead yet, and she hadn’t taken his knife. May as well get comfortable.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of boots overhead and shouting voices went unnoticed; Isobu Luko slept, letting his dreams wander through the stars again. He woke in darkness at the sound of a key in the lock. There was a quiet tap as someone set a lantern nearby. Its light curved across the cheekbones and dark grey fur of the Apex woman as she sat down beside him.

“Are you alive?” she asked softly.

Isobu pushed himself up. His arms shook and an awful sucking emptiness curled up his side, but she caught him before he fell back.

“Steady,” she said. “You will hurt yourself.”

The Novakid chuckled weakly. Despite the blanket, he could feel himself cooling. “Anata, right…? Tell me somethin’ I don’t know …” He almost didn’t recognize her now, in a stiff-collared shirt and long trousers instead of helmet and light armor. A heavy wool cloak covered her shoulders, still whitened with flakes of melting snow.

With Anata’s help, Isobu managed to prop himself up against the wall. As he stretched his bedraggled wings, she produced a small paper packet from the folds of her cloak and passed it to him.

“Eh?” His quick fingers flicked it open to reveal a bunch of little off-white squares. “What’re these lil’ gizmos?” he asked, picking one up. It felt almost powdery.

“You mentioned ‘anything you can burn,’” Anata said. “Fuel chips are easier to find than genuine food in an Apex settlement.”

Isobu made a low rasping sound of disgust as he ate the first chip. It burned clean enough, but it was cheaply made and had a bad chemical taste. Still… he admired her cleverness. Not many organic sorts would have thought of actual fuel. He crackled again as he swallowed a second chip. “Nasty.”

She tilted her head, clearly amused, and looked entirely unfazed as he swore quietly at her. Her hand vanished under her cloak again and Isobu caught the quiet clink of glass. “I did find something to take the edge off the taste,” she said, holding out a small bottle.

The Novakid flickered a little brighter. “Whiskey? Yer jokin’.”

“You did ask.” Her fingers removed the cap in one deft twist. “Apex only drink rarely. This won’t be missed.”

Isobu hummed darkly as he tried to take the bottle, but his arms weren’t strong enough to hold it. Anata held it up for him to drink. “I shouldn’t complain ‘cause it’s helpin’ me,” he said at last as the alcohol began to burn inside him, “but ya shouldn’t steal, missie. It ain’t a good path.”

“I have never walked a good path,” Anata said, capping the bottle again. There was a hardness to her voice that hadn’t been there before. “Stealing from the Miniknog is nothing.”

Isobu twisted another fuel chip free and let it burn slowly. As much as he wanted to devour all of them now, he didn’t know how long he’d need to make them last. “Tell me ‘bout them Miniknog,” he said at last.

Anata opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, feet pounded over their heads, making the little lantern flicker and knocking dust down from the ceiling. She flinched at the sound, pupils narrowed to catlike slits as her eyes flicked between ceiling and door. Isobu could hear voices calling orders in a heavy, strange language. It sounded like a search. He was all too familiar with searches.

“That is the Miniknog,” Anata whispered after the sound faded. “…I should go. Stay here.”

“The heck? That ain't an answer. Where are ya goin'?” Isobu demanded as she stood and pulled her hood up, hiding her eyes. Anata didn’t answer. He heard the lock click as soon as she shut the door.

“Damned confusing ape…” the Novakid growled, pulling his wings in close. He couldn’t get a read on her. What was the point of saving his life and then locking him in here?  She had tended his wounds and gone out of her way to bring him food and alcohol, that much he knew… did she need him for something? Did she even know who he was?

Isobu sighed and tipped his hat down over his brand. Much as he hated having so many questions, not to mention being locked in, there was nothing he could do about it now. His body had barely started to reform, and the dull ache along his brand hadn’t gone away. _I’m in no shape to wander anyhow. Best catch a dimmer while I can…_


	3. Chapter 3

Isobu heard the shouts this time, the thump of armored feet above him that shook dust off the crates. He held still and quiet, willing himself to go a little dimmer until the footsteps died away. Only after it had been silent for a few minutes did he dare sit up. The packet of fuel chips was still there, undisturbed. He ate another and waited. The empty feeling in his side was less now, but he could still feel the tear. It was healing too slowly.

Something clicked nearby and Isobu flinched, pistol in his hand before he recognized Anata. She was in her armor again, frozen with one arm raised to defend herself. “Void’s bone, ol’ girl, bit of warnin’ woulda been nice,” he rasped, lowering the gun. His voice sounded strangely stiff and he shook his head. Everything felt muffled.

“I called your name twice,” she whispered back, removing her helmet and shaking out her long mane before she sat beside him.

“Twice? …damn.” He touched his brand, spitting out a quiet curse as he pulled his hand away and saw the metallic dust on his fingertips. Contamination.

The concern in Anata’s eyes didn’t reach her voice, but her hands were gentle as she took his and inspected the dust. “What does this mean?” she asked softly.

“Never ya mind.” Isobu pulled his hand away, brushing the dust off on his shirt. Nothing she could do for it, anyway. “Heard them Miniknog upstairs again. …are they lookin’ for ya?”

Anata considered the question before shaking her head. “Not yet,” she replied, so quiet he almost couldn’t hear her. “They’re after a ‘dangerous Novakid swordsman.’ Received a message from a nearby Glitch enclave about it last night.” A faint smile curved one corner of her mouth. “Is that you?”

Isobu chuckled. “Might be, ma’am, might be. Best run ‘long and hide, before Isobu Luko gets ya,” he joked. His voice broke in a staticky crackle and he pressed a hand to his side with a low whine, light going dim. “Damn, that smarts.”

Her eyes flicked toward his side. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

A soft hiss escaped him as he moved his hand away. “Well, it sure ain’t gettin’ any better…”

“…I’m sorry.”

Isobu looked over at her, suddenly cautious. She might have saved him from a violent and painful end out in the snow, but he didn’t like all her secrets, or how he still couldn’t get a feel for what she was thinking. “Are ya really, ma’am?” he asked, his voice low and warning. “Ya’ve been friendly enough, I admit. Maybe a bit too friendly. Ya got no reason t’help me, an’ yer jumpier ‘n a scared rabbit under all that fine an’ fancy armor. What’re ya after?”

Anata was quiet for a long moment. “What does it matter?” she said at last. “You’re alive.”

“It always matters,” Isobu retorted, flaring brighter. “I ain’t gonna do someone’s dirty work, even if I do owe ‘em, if they ain’t clean with me.”

The Apex looked away. “I would not have asked that.”  Her voice was hard now, but the edge was not directed at Isobu. It bewildered him. He did not like that.

“So now what?” he demanded, sparks flickering through him like lightning about to strike. “Ya leave me here, no answers, jus’ some fuel scraps an’ a promise? Am I yer prisoner then?”

She stood up, her face suddenly as expressionless as steel. “I will be back soon. If the Miniknog finds you, they will kill you slowly and painfully. Stay here, and stay silent, if you want to live.”

“That ain’t an answer, Anata.” Isobu pushed himself up as she walked toward the door, his wings beating uselessly and stirring up dust. “Don’t ya jus’ leave—Hey!”

Anata paused, hand on the knob, and looked back. “Think of it this way,” she whispered, and this time the sharpness seemed to cut into his core. “Would you rather be my prisoner, or theirs?”

-

He almost didn’t expect her to come back. The lantern she had left burned low as he ate the last few fuel chips, and then the wrapper, the foul taste doing nothing to improve his mood. Another wisp of plasma dropped from his wings, dissolving against the cold floor.

It was far too quiet.

Just as Isobu began to drop off to sleep, the silence shattered. He heard a shout, followed by three sharp cracks. Gunshots. The stillness that followed seemed to fill the room, like a solid weight.

“Can’t just lie here,” the Novakid muttered, trying to push himself up. He didn’t get far. The room spun and he collapsed, pain spearing through his left side. By the time it faded, he could hear someone fumbling with the lock. Isobu froze, dimming as far as he could, and pulled the pistol from his belt. _Might be near helpless, but I ain’t goin’ down without takin’ one of ‘em with me._

A pause, and then the door clicked open. A hooded figure almost staggered inside, sliding the door shut. He could barely even recognize their outline, grey on grey against the walls. Isobu waited, tense and still. He’d only get one shot if it was an enemy.

Something clicked and the little lantern flared brighter, illuminating familiar dark eyes and long mane of hair.

“Isobu.” Anata sounded out of breath, her voice tense and strained.

“…Jus’ you then.” Isobu lowered his pistol, earning a grim smile.

“This seems to be a habit with us,” she said, clipping the lantern to her belt and walking over to him. “Can you move?”

 The Novakid hummed softly. “Enough t’shoot an’ that’s it. What’s the hurry?”

“There’s a dead guard outside and we have a fifteen minute window to get out of here. Time to go.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I wish ya’d tell me what yer up to,” Isobu grumbled as Anata knelt beside him. He stiffened as he caught the scent of fresh blood. Some of the fur poking out from under her sleeves was darker and matted. “Heh. Yer a messy killer, ain’t ya…”

“Not usually. Can you climb on my back?” Anata asked. “I need my hands free, and my cloak will hide your light.”

The Novakid grudgingly nodded. He knew she was right; dead guards meant the searches would double, and then it was only a matter of time before someone found him. But he found himself strongly disliking this woman and every bit of the mystery around her.

The scent of blood grew stronger as she removed her cloak. Isobu pushed himself up, then froze as he saw the stain along her left shoulder blade. She hissed and flinched as he touched it; dark red stained his fingertips and his irritated confusion vanished in concern and surprise. “Here now, yer injured…”

“It’s nothing,” she whispered. He felt a tremor run through her as she took his weight, but her hands were steady enough as she pulled the cloak back on and folded the deep hood over their heads.

The far door led to a small antechamber and a flight of stairs. Snow drifted in as Anata slid the hatch open and climbed out. Isobu could barely see past her head and the edges of the hood; it was night, faint light from behind them casting an eerie radiance across the ankle-deep snow. He could just make out signs of a fight in the otherwise pristine surface: deep footprints, dark splotches leading to the hatch they’d just climbed out of, a blood-stained hollow where someone had fallen heavily. As Anata walked away from the hatch, his blurry vision also picked up a body lying near the hollow.

“That yer guard?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” Her voice was short and clipped as she stepped past, making it clear she was not in the mood for talk.

Minutes passed, the only sound coming from Anata’s quiet breathing and the crunch of snow underfoot. Then the rhythm shifted. He heard her gasp, felt her falter. Isobu tightened his grip with an alarmed crackle as she staggered; her hands moved automatically to keep him from falling as she caught herself.

“Whoa! Hey, ya doin’ okay there?” Isobu asked. He heard a low moan of pain in the back of her throat and shifted his arms so she could breathe easier. “Anata?”

“I’m… alright,” she said, her feet resuming their steady pattern, slower than before. Her breathing was increasingly labored; Isobu felt her blood start to soak into his jacket.

 “Yer alright, my arse. Put me down before the strain kills ya,” he muttered in her ear. He heard her laugh bitterly and crackled with frustration. “Anata!”

“…it’s Nyota.”

“Eh?” His worried anger vanished.

“My name. Anata is an… old alias.” She fell silent for a few moments to catch her breath. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t risk… if you were caught.”

A low hiss escaped him as Isobu caught the implication. “Ya think I’d rat ya out?”

“Everyone does, in the end.”

There was something about the bitter weight in her voice that made Isobu’s retort die before he could even start it. “Why tell me now?” he asked instead.

The Apex was quiet for a long time, panting softly as she carried him deeper into the snowy trees. Her steps were uneven now, and more urgent. “It does not matter anymore,” she said at last. “I can’t go back now.”

“Well, Anata or Nyota or whoever ya are, ya need a doctor,” Isobu told her. “Yer bleedin’ through my shirt.”

Another laugh shook through her, a gentler one this time. “Are you worried, Isobu?”

“An’ what if I am? Ya’ve done me a good turn. I don’t want ya dyin’ under me. Put me down an’ let’s see to that shoulder,” he insisted, loosening his grip. She just shifted hers and kept walking.

“Just… just a bit farther,” she murmured, almost too quiet for him to hear, even clinging to her back. “We need to get out of range. I can’t get a signal here.”

 _Signal for what?_ Isobu wanted to ask, but she needed her breath for walking, not answers. He settled for a low grumble and leaned against her as it started to snow. Another minute passed, or an hour. Isobu couldn’t tell anymore. He felt her right arm shift every now and then and her head turn to glance down at something, but the conversation had worn him out, too. He didn’t have the strength to look. He could feel himself getting colder, the last bits of energy from the fuel chips burning out.

Perhaps Nyota felt it too. Isobu almost didn’t notice when she stopped. She shook his leg gently until he looked up with an incoherent hum. “We’re far enough,” she whispered, which caught his interest. “If you wish, we can part here.”

“Eh?” Isobu brightened a little. “Whatcha mean by that?”

Nyota looked up at the half-hidden stars above them, then pulled a small device out of her pocket, holding it up so Isobu could see it past her shoulder. It looked like a communicator of some sort, the cover emblazoned with the snarling face of a grey male Apex. “I contacted a human trade ship. They are willing to take passengers,” she explained. “I can leave you with food and bandages if you would rather stay here.”

“Are ya mad?” Isobu asked, his plasma clouding. “If I coulda walked, I wouldn’t have let ya carry me this far. Look at me. I ain’t goin’ anywhere like this.”

“So, your answer?” she asked.

Isobu’s irritated crackle turned into a long sigh. No point in trying to figure this one out. “Ya saved my life, ol’ girl. Yer stuck with me.”

The Apex nodded and raised the communicator to her ear. “Captain, two guests. Can you get a fix on us?” She listened for a few moments, then clipped the device to her collar and tucked her arm under Isobu’s knee again. “Hold on and brace for warp.”


	5. Chapter 5

Vague scent of blood, something warm and soft pressed against his face, heavy hot weight over his back—Why wouldn’t the voices stop?

The weight vanished and Isobu crackled with discomfort at the sudden rush of cold air over him, rousing himself a little. His vision had gone white at the edges, like he was peering through a hole in a wall of snow. He could see Ana—no, Nyota’s dark hair, a blur of steel wall just past her shoulder. She receded suddenly as he felt hands on him: heavy, unfamiliar hands. He hissed and tried to pull free. Hollow pain shot up his side, clawing into his throat, and the voices got louder.

“Isobu.” A broad hand pressed against his arm, too cold but familiar.

He relaxed. “Nyota…?” His voice sounded terrible, scratchy and distorted. Where were they? Had they teleported?

“These people will heal you,” she whispered. “Don’t fight them.” Her face was so pale. She wasn’t supposed to be that pale.

“If… if ya say so,” he managed. He didn’t so much relax into the stranger’s arms as run out of energy to fight back.

Nyota offered him a thin smile and stepped back. People moved between them, small and hairless beside her—humans? One held the communicator Nyota had showed him. The Novakid couldn’t recognize any of them. There could be five or fifty, he couldn’t tell at all. Their attention was focused on him; no one else noticed the Apex press a hand to her left shoulder. No one else noticed her slide slowly down the wall.

Isobu crackled sharply as Nyota’s head fell forward. The person holding him froze, and there was a chorus of startled shouts from the humans around him. The few he could understand were asking if he was alright. “It… ain’t me, ya coot,” he rasped. “See… see t’the lady. She’s hurt.”

The human holding the communicator looked at him, then pocketed the device and snapped orders to two of the others. One knelt beside Nyota, putting a hand on her shoulder and speaking to her in the same heavy language Isobu had heard from the Miniknog guards. Nyota raised her head slightly; he couldn’t hear her response. The last thing he saw before being carried out of the room was the human pulling a blood-stained hand away from the Apex’s back.

“Ya better save her,” he murmured, gripping the arm of the man carrying him as fog began to cover his sight. “I owe her my life. Ya better save her.”

-

He didn’t remember much of what followed. He saw a blur of moving shapes and strange lights. Cold sank into his side for one agonizing moment before a curious warmth flooded through him. Voices drifted in and out of his hearing, most of them speaking a strange, choppy language. One of the human dialects?

One of the voices switched to the trade tongue. Isobu hummed something incoherent; he couldn’t understand a word they were saying. Something clamped down over his arms and his hum turned shrill in panic. Cold touched his brand, scraped down it, and Isobu dropped into merciful oblivion.

-

When he woke up later, it was to a human face entirely too close to his own. Isobu jerked back with a shout of alarm, hand jumping to where his knife usually sat. _Where was his knife?_

The human’s eyes widened in alarm as Isobu tried to sit up. “Please, lie still,” they insisted. “Your body is not yet stable.”

“Whatcha do with my stuff?” Isobu’s voice was slurred and dazed. His brand felt curiously light and sore. He didn’t resist as the human gently pushed him back down, though he did try to look around. The walls were clean and white, a far cry from the last place he’d woken up, and someone had wrapped a warm blanket around him.

“Your belongings are stored under your bed,” the human told him. Their voice was so calm and reassuring. It almost pissed him off. Last he remembered—

“Nyota.”

The human looked utterly bewildered, then alarmed again as Isobu flared. “I… I beg your pardon, I do not know who that is…” they insisted as Isobu tried to sit up again. “Please hold still!”

“The Apex woman what got me here, I know she was with me,” Isobu insisted, his corona crackling with agitation. He dimly registered some kind of mechanical voice pick up nearby. It sounded like a warning. “Is she alright? What’ve ya done with her?”

“Ah yes.” Recognition flashed through the human’s eyes. “She never told us her name. You needn’t worry. Your friend is resting now. But I need you to stay calm…”

Isobu picked up a low humming noise. A second later, he started getting drowsy. Suspicion shot through him and he tried to fight it. “Where is she? Let me see her,” he demanded, his light flickering unsteadily.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now,” the human told him in that same damnable calm voice, though Isobu could pick up a gratifying flicker of worry. “She is sleeping off the sedatives—Do not try to sit up now. You will only hurt yourself.”

The Novakid couldn’t muster the energy to defy them. “Ya _sedated_ her?” he growled. “I’m gonna—”

Most of the patience vanished. “It was at her request,” the human said, their voice clipped. “That bullet was lodged deep in her shoulder. Would you rather we operate while she was still conscious?” They took a deep breath, and the sharpness vanished. “It takes time for Apex to get such drugs out of their systems, but she will be fine. She simply needs rest, as do you.”

Isobu fell back against his pillow with an irritated crackle, half at the human and their too-peaceful voice, half at himself and his ignorance. The shots he had heard, they must have been aimed at Nyota, then. And she’d been hit bad enough to need surgery. How had he missed… “Fine. Ain’t got much choice, do I…?” he muttered. He didn’t like any of this, least of all his own helplessness, but they weren’t lying to him at least. And he was so very sleepy…


	6. Chapter 6

Isobu woke slowly out of a dreamless sleep with the strangest feeling that someone had stuffed his head with cotton. The feeling vanished almost as soon as he recognized it. He crackled a quiet curse. Magnetism. That’s why he’d fallen asleep so fast. “Clever bastards,” he muttered.

There was no sign of the human he’d talked to before. The room was dimly lit by a light strip on the wall and someone had left a plate of thin wafers beside the bed. He picked one up, turned it over, and sampled it. Bread of some sort, and much nicer than the fuel chips. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until all the wafers were gone.

Glowing a bit brighter now, Isobu sat up. It didn’t hurt. It was also cold. He looked down and realized first that someone had taken his coat and shirt while he slept, and then that the hole in his side was gone. _How long was I out?_

He was more concerned about his belongings than anything else, but just as he started getting frustrated, he spotted the clothing on the chair the human had been sitting in. There was a note resting on it. Isobu pushed the blanket off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noticing simultaneously that his boots were missing and the floor was cold. He hissed, irritated. At least they’d left his pants on…

The floor was smooth and polished, and Isobu was still incredibly unsteady. He skidded slightly, grabbed the bed for balance, and settled for slowly sliding to the floor as his nearly-tractionless feet simply refused to stay under him.

The human from before walked in right as Isobu tried to pull himself upright again. “Oh! Are you hurt?” they asked, hurrying over.

“Jus’… just my dignity,” Isobu muttered as they helped him back onto the bed. “Damn floor… Where’s my boots?”

“They are right here, with your other belongings,” the human told him, pulling them out from under the bed, along with his weapons belt. Now that he was a bit more coherent, Isobu realized they must be some kind of medic. The nametag pinned to their shirt pocket read ‘Sascha.’

“Thanks.” Now that he wasn’t exhausted and in pain, Isobu’s temper cooled somewhat. Sascha was apparently tactful enough to not mention it. Or distracted, Isobu realized. “Somethin’ botherin’ ya, partner?” he asked.

Sascha ran a nervous hand through their short blond hair. “It’s nothing of—”

“Don’t ya start that nonsense again,” Isobu said, his tone level, but his wings betrayed the warning as they shifted and flared slightly. “What’s eatin’ ya?”

The medic sighed, then walked over and pulled aside a curtain that divided the room. There was an empty bed, identical to Isobu’s, except this one was neatly made.

“…it’s an empty bed,” Isobu observed. “I’m guessin’ it ain’t s’posed to be.”

“You asked me where your friend was,” Sascha said, and this time their composure slipped enough for Isobu to hear the undercurrent of uncertainty in their voice. “I wish I could answer that now. When I checked in last night, she was sleeping here. I do not know if the captain ordered her moved, or if she simply wandered off…”

“Well,” Isobu said, “if ya pass me my shirt and coat, I’ll help ya find her.”

Sascha hesitated and Isobu saw several emotions flicker through their face before they picked up the bundle of clothing and asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” the Novakid admitted, “but I ain’t injured anymore. How long was I out?”

“You have been on this ship for four days. We last spoke roughly thirty-six hours ago. She left you a note.” Sascha handed Isobu his clothes, indicating the paper tucked under the shirt sleeve. They jumped so smoothly between topics that it took Isobu a moment to realize the note was not actually related to the time.

Isobu picked it up. “How’d ya know it’s hers?”

“The captain and I are the only members of this crew who can read and write in the Apex language, and it would be unlike him to leave handwritten notes for an unconscious passenger once their fare has been paid.”

“Is that so…” He studied the note for several seconds before putting it down with a frustrated rush of static. “Darned if I can read it,” he muttered, pulling his shirt on. It looked a lot like the human alphabet, but some of those symbols were definitely not human, and the words weren’t in any dialect he knew of.

Sascha took the note. “May I?”

Isobu waved dismissively. “It ain’t no good to me, and if she didn’t want it read, she wouldn’t’ve left it out for ya to read it. She’s a right careful sort, she is.” Something was a bit off with his clothes. He looked down at the shirt, tugging at the cloth, trying to figure out what. It hit him a moment later: no blood stain, no hole or scorch marks from his side.

As Isobu noticed this, Sascha inspected the note, putting on reading glasses from their breast pocket. “Her handwriting is very neat. …nearest I can translate it would be ‘I hope this is adequate.’ It is very formal, but our language lacks the nuance…”

The Novakid ignored the rest, running his fingers over the cloth. He could feel the seam, but barely saw it even when he looked for it. His glow brightened, sparks gleaming along his fingertips. “Adequate, my foot. She fixed my shirt. She fixed my damn shirt!”

Sascha lowered the note, somewhat concerned. “I don’t—”

“Ya don’t have to,” Isobu interrupted, pulling his coat on over his wings. No point in attracting gawkers. “Come on. Let’s go find that Apex.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay between chapters; I got a job for at least the summer, so my writing time has decreased... I'll do my best to keep working at this though.

An hour passed, then two, Isobu following behind Sascha and trying to memorize the path through the ship. It was definitely a merchant vessel. Isobu hadn’t been on one of them in quite a while. Few members of the crew were armed, and after the first few minutes Isobu ended up buttoning his coat shut so his pistol and knife would stop attracting wary or even frightened stares.

“It would have been better to leave those behind,” Sascha remarked mildly as they watched Isobu fasten the buttons.

“Are ya out of yer mind?” Isobu asked, crackling incredulously. “I ain’t wanderin’ in a strange place unarmed. That’s how ya get yerself killed.”

Instead of pressing the point further, as Isobu had half-expected, Sascha said, “Your glow has faded.”

Isobu nodded. He could feel it. “I’m just runnin’ low on juice, partner,” he said, “but I got enough spark in me for a bit more wanderin’.” He couldn’t quite suppress the worried sparks forming deep in his plasma. He still owed her, and Nyota had been in bad shape when he last saw her.

“Do you need rest?” Sascha offered, their brow furrowed with concern.

“Rest is the last thing I need.” Even confined by his coat, Isobu’s shifting wings betrayed his restlessness. “I already slept too long. Food’d help it, but I can’t eat with this over my head. C’mon. Sooner we find her, sooner I can see to myself. Gotta be someplace in this ol’ crate we ain’t looked yet.”

Sascha did not look happy with Isobu’s answer, but they gestured for him to follow. “Do not let the captain catch you calling it a crate,” they warned. “He is a proud man, and doesn’t take kindly to insults. Keep close, please.”

-

They finally found her sitting beside a window in the belly of the ship, tucked in behind a few covered crates and staring out at the stars. She held her jacket in one hand, a long darning needle in the other, both arms resting on her knees as she watched space pass them by. Her white undershirt was damp, and Isobu caught the scent of cheap soap from it as he approached. She set the jacket down to pull her cloak further over her shoulders, caught their reflection in the window, and looked up.

“You’re awake.”

Isobu sat down on the edge of one of the crates. “Yer gonna catch yer death of cold, sittin’ out here like that,” he said. “Yer sort ain’t good with wet clothes.”

“We are not,” she agreed, and picked up the jacket again. Her hands were slow and stiff as she began repairing it again, but the stitches she left were precise, the result of long hours of practice. She tied a knot in the thread and bit the excess off, then set the mended jacket down again. “It would be no less than I deserve.”

The Novakid crackled, warning flaring in his head and sending sparks flickering through him like lightning. “Come again?”

 Nyota closed her eyes, hand moving to the back of her neck; Isobu had seen that gesture as a sign of uncertainty or nervousness in humans, but there was nothing uncertain about the Apex’s expression. She didn’t answer.

Sascha took a few steps forward, but they stopped when Nyota opened her dull eyes and turned her stare on him. Isobu felt a wary itch roll down his back; even when she’d been injured and carrying him through the snow, Nyota’s eyes had never looked this hollow. Something was definitely wrong.

“Ain’t nobody deserves to die of cold, least of all the woman who saved my sorry hide,” he insisted. “What’s eatin’ ya?”

Nyota moved her hand away from her neck, staring at her own open palm as if it held the answers. From her flat expression, it was clear she found nothing. “I killed an ally,” she said softly. “I betrayed my people. The price of treason is death.”

Isobu went silent as Sascha drew in a sharp breath. His first reaction was anger; anger at Nyota’s secrets, at the people she belonged to who would hurt her, at himself for caring about this strange woman that had walked into his life out of nowhere and risked her own life to save him. But anger wouldn’t help now. She needed something he didn’t know how to give.

Sascha was trying reason. “Your friend is right, ma’am. Being out here in a damp shirt will only make you ill, and we reach Earth in two days. They may turn you away if you are not healthy. Come back to the medical ward with me, please. Your shoulder needs to be examined, and I can find you dry clothing there.”

She tilted her head, acknowledging his words, and slipped the needle into a thin case as she stood up. The old flickering hall light cast eerie shadows across her face. Then her stomach growled and she looked so surprised that Isobu couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. She shot him an indignant look, the effect ruined by a second, quieter gurgle.

“Maybe yer a traitor. That ain’t no business of mine right now, and I ain’t in any shape to address it,” Isobu said, still chuckling. “But yer body wants life, and mostly food. Why don’t we see to that, partner?”

Nyota stared at him, then bowed her head slightly, the first genuine smile he’d seen from her forming on her lips. “Very well.” Her tone was halfway between amused and resigned to her fate. “You will have to guide me.”

“We are just below the mess hall,” Sascha offered, visibly relieved, the tense lines on their face smoothing out. “I suppose checking your shoulder can wait a few minutes longer.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I'm still working on this ^.^;; I have so many projects on my mind along with my job that finding a few moments is difficult, but here's chapter eight, after far too long. Thank you for your patience!

Nyota stopped so abruptly at the entrance to the mess hall that Isobu walked into her. “Uff—hey, what’s the holdup?”

The Apex started forward again, slower this time. “My apologies. I was… not expecting this.” Her head moved constantly, eyes scanning the barely-occupied room, but not warily for once. Isobu could have sworn she was… intrigued?

Sascha looked back, quizzical, then followed her roving stare and smiled. “Ah yes. I forget that most Apex are not used to this. Please, follow me. We seem to have arrived between meals, but Sprocket always has something ready.”

“The hell’s a Sprocket,” Isobu asked, “and what’s all the fuss about?” Sascha made a ‘just a moment’ gesture, which caught his interest. He instinctively tucked his wings in a bit closer as he followed behind the medic; they were still constrained by his coat, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he was going to knock something over. One or two of the people turned to watch them as they passed, but most kept their focus on their own business.

Sprocket turned out to be an elderly human male in a frilly, grease-stained apron. He wore a monocle made from an old cog, likely the source of his odd name. He listened patiently as Sascha rattled off a series of phrases in a strangely staccato language, then dipped his ladle into a massive steaming pot. Sascha smiled and thanked him as he handed them two large mugs of soup. The man cast a thoughtful eye over Isobu as Sascha passed one mug to Nyota before handing him a dark glass bottle. Isobu took it with an appreciative hum. A fine bit of booze was better than most foods for a hungry Novakid.

“We can return for seconds once we have finished this,” Sascha explained, leading them through the array of tables again and settling at a spot near the back corner of the room.

“I just have never seen so much food before,” Nyota said simply.

The Novakid crackled, almost disbelieving, but she hadn’t directly lied to him yet. “Yer folk just ain’t got a lot of food, eh?”

Nyota shook her head. “Not like this.” She thought for a moment, then rummaged in a pocket and produced a slim metallic tube. “This is Apex food.”

He looked up at her, then at the tube, then back up at her as he took it. “This lil’ thing… Yer big folk live off these lil’ gizmos?” He tapped an incredulous finger against the side. “How’d ya even _eat_ it?”

Nyota actually smiled, a small flicker of genuine amusement. “We do not eat the tube, for one,” she said, taking it back. She unscrewed the plastic cap to reveal a thin metal seal over the mouth of the tube. “Pierce this and you can eat the paste inside. Two daily have enough calories and nutrition to keep an adult Apex functional, at least.”

“Fascinating,” Sascha said, setting down their soup and leaning in for a closer look; Nyota stiffened slightly as they got close, but relaxed soon enough. Sasha was no threat. “Humans once tried producing something like these, but we never succeeded. What do they taste like?”

Nyota checked the label. “This one… Avesmingo, which means very little,” she said. Those fruit could taste like anything. “I doubt it will hold much taste either way. The ration tubes come in many exciting flavors of bland.” A sharp fizz made her flinch and look up.

“Heh. Sorry,” Isobu said, his laughter quieting a little. “Think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard ya crack a joke. Was startin’ to wonder if ya knew what it was.”

“I do have a sense of humor,” Nyota said, but the odd mix of iciness and amusement in her eyes faded quickly. Isobu wasn’t sure if the dull expression that replaced it was much better. He nudged her elbow, earning a flicker of curiosity.

“Ya oughta drink yer soup. It’s gonna get cold,” he suggested.

The Apex hummed in agreement and raised the mug to her lips. A moment later, she paused. Her eyes widened. She tipped the mug back and took a much deeper drink; the soup was considerably lower when she set the mug down again. “What _is_ this?” she asked; neither Isobu or Sascha had ever heard that tone before. “It’s _good._ ”

Sascha laughed, a little nervously. “It is only soup?” they said, picking up their spoon again to stir the mug’s contents. “Sprocket makes a good broth, yes… Are you alright?”

Nyota didn’t answer immediately as she lifted the mug again and took another mouthful. “I am… Yes. I am very alright.”

Isobu chuckled again and finished his own drink, humming contentedly as he drained the last drops out of the bottle. He’d needed that. He set it on the table and watched as Sascha almost daintily ate their soup while Nyota drank her mug dry. “That’s somethin’ worth stickin’ around for, ain’t it?” he asked quietly as she set the empty mug down with a contented sigh.

She looked surprised at the question, and then very thoughtful as she nodded.


End file.
